


Even If I Tried

by lucylikestowrite



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, i'm putting all of coulson's team in there bc it will probably have all of them, idek what this is gonna be, it's probably so bad, might take a little while to get going maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylikestowrite/pseuds/lucylikestowrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her near-death experience, Jemma Simmons realises that when it comes to love, waiting is the worst possible thing you can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_“So, please. Let me show you.”_

* * *

 

What do you do when your best friend tells you you’re more than that. When they tell you they’re going to give their life for yours. Give you the last breath of oxygen. The chance to live.

What do you say?

You don’t.

You don’t say anything, you won’t say anything. You can’t tell them that you don’t feel that way, that you’ll never feel that way, that you feel that way for someone else.

You tried to stop them, tried to find another way. But there isn’t one. There isn’t another way, and even if there was, there’s no time.

No time. No, no, no. it’s all you can think, and then you’re saying it as well, no, no.

No. This can’t be happening, how is this happening. Why?

You don’t want to say goodbye but you have to, and so you cry, and hold them, and try not to let go. You kiss their cheek, their forehead, and then you’re looking at them and they’re pressing the button.

* * *

The water rushes in and they were right. It’s a dull thud in your stomach, a horrible punch, surely a million tonnes of water just entered the tiny pod.

You use the oxygen. You take a breath and it’s got to last you to the surface and you don’t know if it will.

You’re the better swimmer. You can do it. And so you take him with you, too. You can’t just leave him there, to die under the sea. If you can try to save him, you need to try. Out, and up, up, up so incredibly far the surface is so close but a million miles away and you can’t do it, you can’t do it he’s too heavy you’re going to sink your lungs are screaming for air your eyes are stinging your hand is reaching up…

And then your fingers break the surface, your head, and you’re gasping for air and it’s the best feeling in the world. But you’re in the middle of the ocean; which ocean, you try to remember, but all you can remember is his face, etched onto your retinas, like a film replaying over and over in your mind.

A noise is overheard, and you look up, and it’s a helicopter. A helicopter. In the middle of the ocean and when the light stops blinding you, you see a familiar face and you reach up and when you feel the hand grasping your wrist you know you’re safe. And then you black out.

* * *

 

You wake up in a hyperbaric chamber, and Fury – the dead man, the director of S.H.I.E.LD – tells you all you need to know: that Fitz is alive. You try not to think about the other things he says, that his brain was deprived of oxygen, that his heart is barely beating. It doesn’t matter. If he’s still alive you can fix him. You can.

But when you land, they rush him away, through glass doors, behind locks that beep obnoxiously, and you're not allowed past, because you're not family and you're not a doctor, not trained for this, even though you've been the team's doctor for what seems like forever. You've got no letters before or after your name, and so you're not qualified.

The minutes stretch out, seemingly endless, an infinity of moments, waiting, waiting for anything.

When they let you see him, it's almost as bad as sitting in the foyer on those cold, hard plastic chairs. He's on the bed, silent and white and almost still but for the tiny movements of his chest.

He's covered in tubes, and you think how much he ~~would've~~ would hate having them in him, restrained, chained to a machine measuring the beats of his heart and everything else.

You sit with him for hours, silent, though they say talking helps, because you can't talk, can't break the silence. You sit until they tell you to leave, spend a night in a motel you forget the minute you leave, and come back.

As you sit in the room, that horrible room, your head leaning against the headboard of his bed, you wish and hope and pray to gods you don't believe in, because anything is worth trying.

And in the silence, your mind wanders. Wanders to what he said before the pod blew, and to what you realised afterwards. You think back to a time when things were easier, before everything happened, and to a smile that you fell in love with. A smile, that, you know, wouldn't feel the same way.

You realise that they probably think you're dead, you and Fitz, and that makes you so sad you can't think straight for a second. But his steady breathing calms you, makes you think clearly, and you remember who you came here with. Fury will have told them. He has to have, because if you think of her... grieving, your heart breaks. And looking at Fitz, you realise that when you next see her, you have to tell her. If you keep waiting for the right moment, it will only happen when every other moment is gone.

* * *

It doesn't take long for the order to arrive. You and Fitz are shipped out - put in a van that seems to be incredibly well armoured, and driven for a seemingly endless amount of time. You suspect that you took a few detours along the way, because when you're let out of the van, you can tell that you haven't travelled far, and the reason for the secrecy is revealed when the silent woman who came to collect you leads the way to an entrance much like that of Providence.

Inside you are welcomed by Eric Koenig, except it isn't Eric, it's Billy, and he leads you to the medical area of 'The Playground', and you only leave once you're sure Fitz is safe, that he's comfortable.

He tells you that the team will be here shortly, and your heart races, and you're scared.

But when it arrives, suddenly you're calm, because the Bus being here means that something is back to normal.

And when the cargo hold opens, and you see them, all you can think is, "She's here."


	2. Leap of Faith

"She's here," Skye thinks. "She's back". The cargo bay finishes lowering, and then she's half-running down, meeting her in the middle, arms round her, hugging her friend for the first time in what seems like forever. Logically, she knows it hasn't been forever, hardly even a day, but when the last thing you heard was that she was probably dead, chucked into the sea by a _Nazi..._

Skye's thankful she's safe.

* * *

Jemma doesn't ever want to let go. She wants to live in this moment, safe here, no past or future, no big confessions, no...

"Fitz. Is he okay? Please tell me he's okay," Skye sounds concerned and careful, and Jemma doesn't know what to say. He's... in an oxygen-deprived coma? Been asleep for the past day? Got a heart rate that is perilously low? Almost dead and I'm falling apart? "He's alive."

Alive will have to do. If Jemma says anything else, she may burst into tears, and she can't let that happen, not when she needs to keep her composure; not when she's spent the last day crying, and must surely be reaching the limit.

Everyone looks at her like they know what she means, but no-one says it, and when May changes the subject, for a second she doesn't think she's ever been more grateful to anyone.

"What is this place?"

"First thing I found in that box was these co-ordinates. Another secret base?" Coulson looks at Jemma, and she knows she could tell them, but she's interrupted.

"I call it 'The Playground', although, technically, it doesn't have a name, because, technically, it doesn't exist. It being a _secret base_ , and all."

Jemma watches as the rest of the team stare confusedly at Koenig, and tunes out as he goes through the exact same spiel he did when she arrived. Maybe there's a script, she thinks. Maybe there's someone in S.H.I.E.L.D who writes transcripts for awkward situations. That would be handy. Maybe she could modify one for later today.

And then she remembers that they _are_ S.H.I.E.L.D, and if she wants a transcript, she'll have to write one herself. Which might have been a good idea, come to think of it, but now there's obviously no time to sit and mull over a conversation that will definitely not go well, no matter how prepared she may or may not be.

"...so! Where would you like to start?"

Getting out of here suddenly looks like a good idea to Jemma, with Skye at her side at the pressure of what she's decided to do suddenly bearing down on her. With Koenig gone, Coulson starts to move back inside the Bus, with May and Triplett behind, seeming more eager to gravitate towards familiarity than the unfamiliar blankness of the the Playground.

She's about to follow, when she feels a tug on her wrist. Skye's looking at her, wide-eyed and worried, and for a second her heart leaps. "Fitz," she pauses, chewing her lip. "Is he here? Can I see him?"

Jemma opens her mouth, then closes it again, because she doesn't know. _Can_ Skye see him? Is that allowed? Then she figures, if there's no rules, there's no rules to break. "Sure. They've got him in the hospital wing. And when I say they, I mean Koenig, because he's the only one here. And when I say hospital wing, I mean they put him there and made it the hospital wing. They don't really have much here, really," she's babbling, and she knows it.

* * *

"He looks so... normal," she's sat in the chair next to him, Jemma at her shoulder.

Jemma knows what she means. Some of the colour has returned to his cheeks, his breathing is slightly more steady, but that doesn't matter. "That's thing about oxygen deprivation. It doesn't show on the outside. It's all internal." It's the first time she's said it out loud, as though until now she hasn't quite believed it.

Skye turns away from him, all of a sudden her gaze on Jemma, looking up. "Oxygen deprivation?" so they hadn't told them everything. "Doesn't that mean-"

She doesn't say it, but Jemma nods. Then shakes her head.

"Yes, no, maybe. Not always. It doesn't have to."

(Jemma doesn't even believe her own words.)

They wait in silence for a few minutes, as if something is going to happen.

(Jemma knows it's not.)

The silence is suddenly unbearable, filling the room.

"He told me he loved me," it comes out all in a rush - he-told-me-he-loved-me - and it's not the confession she wanted to make, but it's a start.

"And that surprised you?"

"Well, yes, I mean-" she breaks off when she sees Skye's face. "You _knew_?"

"It couldn't have been more obvious if he'd serenaded you over the intercom on the Bus"

Jemma perched on the edge of his bed, staring down at her intertwined fingers. "Oh." This tiny piece of information, for some reason, had thrown her. She couldn't tell Skye now, she couldn't do it, especially not here, looking down on an inanimate Fitz.

For another age, they wait there, and then she gets up.

"We should go. They probably want us back on the Bus."

"Probably," Skye isn't usually this obliging, but maybe she's just being nice.

* * *

She's kicking herself. She was ready and then she finds out that everyone but her knew how Fitz felt and-

She's out the door and knocking on Skye's before she realises that it's late because she spent so long fretting and she's worried that she'll wake her up, and she wonders if she has time to run away, and then the door opens.

Maybe if she does it quick it will be like ripping off a plaster.

"I need to tell you something."

"That sounds ominous. Come in, you look ridiculous standing there in your pyjamas."

And of course she's forgotten she'd already changed. Skye closes the door and turns back towards her.

"Well?"

"I need to tell you this, because I think I might explode if I don't. I wanted to tell you earlier but I couldn't, I just couldn't and I don't know how to do this. I need to tell you but I can't and you're the only one I can tell; you're the only one I would tell, it really wouldn't make sense telling anyone else, you know. You don't know, I mean, because I haven't told you, but if I do, you'll understand, and I-" she breaks off, realising that she possibly only took one breath to say all of that, and also that she's been pacing and that she feels a little bit faint.

"For god's sake, sit down Jemma. You look like you're about to keel over!" Jemma sits, next to her, perched on the edge of a bed once more. "You know, the last time I saw you like this, you'd just iced Agent Sitwell. You haven't like, accidentally murdered someone, have you?"

"What? No! Of course n-" it takes her a second to figure out Skye's joking.

"I," she stops, starts again. "I told you that he told me loved me. I mean. He didn't exactly say that. He said I was more than his best friend and I, I couldn't say that back, because it wouldn't be true."

Skye seems confused at the sudden change of direction.

(But it's not a change, not really, just a step up to the precipice.)

"I couldn't tell him that I feel that way about him, because I don't and that would be a lie. Do you see?"

"I- no. Not really. Is this what you wanted to tell me? That you don't feel that way about him? Because that's okay, you know. You're not obliged to like someone just because they like you. Even if it is your best friend."

"I know, but that's, that's not what I wanted to say," a tear squeezes out of her eye, rolling down her cheek. "I couldn't say it back because I feel that way about someone else, but up until now I've been too scared to tell them. Just like he was. But he left it too late, and I can't let myself do that."

She stands up and wipes away that stupid, stupid tear.

(She jumps.)

"It's you, Skye."

And then she flees.


	3. Distance

"Huh."

She hears the door two down from hers slam shut, and gets up to close her own, which Jemmerella left open when the clock struck twelve, and sits back down, mulling over what just happened.

On a scale of things Skye had expected Jemma to come out with, _that_ wasn't high. In fact, in all honesty, she probably would've seriously guessed murder first. Which is weird, because, why not?

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that everyone had kinda figured FitzSimmons were Secretly Dating.

(Skye knows it's because the thought would never even have crossed her mind.)

* * *

 

When Jemma wakes up, she isn't immediately sure why she feels so jittery. Or why her mouth tastes horrible, like she forgot to brush her teeth last night.

She's up and halfway into a blouse before it hits her like a ton of bricks.

"Shit," a rare curse escaping from her lips. "Bloody hell, oh crap, crap."

She sits back down, one arm in her blouse, the other out as the events of last night flood back. She wants to believe that it could've gone better, but in truth, all in a rush is the only way how.

She doesn't want to think about Skye's reaction, either. That's another one of her trademarks - leaving before they have any chance to say or do anything.

The last time she'd done this was six years ago, still a student, and after she'd told him, she had run off and had an hour long conversation with Fitz, in which he had to talk her down from running away to Canada - twice.

But now she didn't have Fitz to do that with, and she vaguely remembers half-running back to her cabin, and falling straight asleep.

Feeling like she has a hangover - although not really knowing what one would feel like - all Jemma wants to do is fall back asleep and forget everything that happened yesterday. In fact, she'd rather like to forget rather a lot of things, thank you.

Maybe ignorance would be bliss.

(The small part of her that is elated by what she has done knows it wouldn't be.)

She is startled out of her reverie by a knock on the door.

"Jemma... can I come in? Your light's on so I know you're in there."

Jemma turns off the light, which is a frankly ridiculous thing to do, because now she's sitting, half-dressed, in the dark.

"You just turned off the light so now I definitely know you're in there. Can I please just come in and we can talk?"

The thought of talking to her, looking her in the eyes, absolutely horrifies Jemma, and when the door knob starts rattling, she practically throws herself against it, before remembering that it's locked and Skye can't actually get in.

"Did you just... fall over? I heard a loud noise. Are you okay?"

"I'm," Jemma gathers her composure, as much as you can when you're in a heap on the floor. "Fine. I'm fine. And no, you can't come in, because... I've got lots of stuff laid out very carefully."

(This was a lie.)

"Right."

"And I'm not dressed."

(This at least wasn't.)

"Okay. Well. I guess I'll see you at breakfast then."

"Yep!" Jemma's voice is stupidly cheery.

She has plenty of cereal bars under her bed.

* * *

 

Jemma convinces herself that if they want her for anything official, someone will come and get her, and uses this to rationalize hiding in her room for the next few hours.

She has a book open, but she's read a page in the past hour, and in reality she's staring out the window at the remarkably boring view of the playground, and repeating everything that's happened in the past 24 hours in her head, over and over again.

All her bravado has gone, all of the confidence she mustered up when she realised what she needed to do, and now all she can do is worry.

Worry that she's ruined their friendship, that she's never going to be able to look her in the eye again, that she'll have to stay in her cabin forever and waste away slowly...

Okay. Maybe she won't waste away slowly. But she is getting kinda bored of cereal bars. And lonely. Suddenly, all she wants to do is go and talk everything through with Fitz, and then she's out of her door and creeping off the plane.  
She doesn't see anyone, which is kind of surprising, but she's thankful, because she's still a mess. She's pretty sure her hair is starting to make funny shapes, and she's so tired even though she slept for hours, and she feels like she might be about to get a cold, but that might just be all the crying she's done.

So when she opens the door to Fitz's room, and the worst person possible is already sat next to him, for a second she's just standing there, and time seems to slow down, and she considers running away but that seems a little too childish, even for this situation. Probably.

Skye's head whips around, and she's standing up, and Jemma can feel her looking at her, but she's not going to check.

"You're not going to run away, are you?"

"Maybe," she looks up, and Skye's expression is unreadable. "I mean, no, probably not, I mean, even if I did, you're probably faster than me, so it probably wouldn't be worth trying, probably, I don't think, not really."

"Have you put a lot of thought into this? Running away, I mean?"

"No. But i have put a lot of thought into... this."

"'This?'"

"Talking to you, and I can't do it. I don't know. I thought what I did was the right thing to do, but now I'm not sure, and now... I just need more space"

(Less.)

"So, what? We're just not friends any more? That's it? Seriously? Your best friend is in a _coma_ ," Jemma flinches. "And our team mate turned out to be a freaking _Nazi_. Do you really want to lose another friend?"

"I never," and she's bloody crying. Again. "I never said that I didn't want us to be friends. I just said, that at the moment, I _cannot_ deal with this. I thought I could, but I just can't. I have all these feelings, and if I think about it too much, I can't breathe, because I know that you don't feel like I do, and I just can't do this. I'm sorry."

For the second time in two days, Jemma Simmons escapes; not stopping until she can lock her door and curl on her bed and cry, properly.

* * *

Skye sighs, and sits back down again.

'...because I know that you don't feel like I do.'

(Do you?)


	4. Kiss and Make Up

For the past few weeks, they'd been avoiding each other. Or, more accurately, Jemma had been throwing herself into every piece of work she's given, and ignoring Skye whenever she tried to talk to her, which was both utterly stupid and unsurprisingly effective.

Skye seemed to have gotten the message pretty quickly.

It was also incredibly childish, and Jemma hated herself for it, but considering the fact that just thinking about talking to her sped up her heartbeat alarmingly, and the last two times she'd had a proper conversation with her it had - literally - ended in tears, she figured it was for the best.

(It wasn't.)

* * *

Skye flops down in a chair, near enough to the stairs to the lab to see if Jemma surfaces, laptop in hand, mentally exhausted.

It's ridiculous, and Skye doesn't think she's ever had a more frustrating couple of weeks. There's only so many times that you can be studiously blanked before you give up, but for some idiotic reason, Skye hasn't quite, and she has no idea why.

Maybe it's because Jemma's pretty much her only friend at the moment, with Fitz still stubbornly under, and no sign that he's breaking through soon, and she needs someone she can talk to.

(Maybe it's not.)

All she knows is that until they talk properly, she's not going to just let this go. If Jemma's going to start something like this - whatever _this_ is - she's going to have to follow through.

She's stunned from her reverie by a tap on the shoulder.

"Skye," it's Coulson, and for a second she wonders if she's done something wrong. "Can I join you for a second?" he gestures at the empty seat opposite her.

"Um. Sure. Why not?"

"Indeed," he's silent for a second, and then: "I suppose you know why I want to talk to you."

Her mind goes blank. Maybe she _has_ done something wrong. Coulson obviously registers her confusion.

"You and Simmons."

"I'm sorry, what?" has Simmons suddenly got a lot more... confession-happy? Is that even a thing? "She told _you_?" Skye's voice is incredulous to the extreme.

"Simmons hasn't told me anything, Skye. She didn't need to for it to be painfully obvious that the two of you aren't talking."

"Right. That. Obviously."

"But if there is something that she's said that's straining your relationship," Skye winces. "Then you need to talk about it."

"With you?"

"With her."

It's not for lack of trying, Coulson, she thinks. It really isn't.

"Because, Skye, the whole of S.H.I.E.L.D currently consists of six people. One of them is currently comatose, and so if two of us aren't speaking. Let's just say it's not good for the math."

"Right. Got you."

"Just, kiss and make up, ok? We need our ranks undivided."

Jemma was going to have a heart attack.

* * *

Pleased with the fact that she's only had to ignore Skye once today, Jemma backs into her room, a pile of really very heavy hard-covers in her arms. And then the light flicks on, and she whips round, the books flying out of her arms, and landing on the bed.

Which confusingly, is occupied.

* * *

"Skye?! What the hell were you doing in my room? In the dark?"

She takes a second to recover from the shock of suddenly being pelted by about a ton of books

"I thought it would add to the effect."

"The effect?! What are you even doing here? How did you get in?"

"And I could ask you," Skye picks up one of the books, and studies the cover. "Why you want to know about 'Revolutions in the Security of Federal and State Prisons, 1978-2008'. A bit of light reading?"

"That," Jemma says, as she hastily gathers them up. "Is none of your business until Coulson makes it your business.  But you're dodging my questions."

"I got in here by opening the door."

"I locked it."

"You didn't actually. And even if you had, I could've got in."

"That's great to know. Really it is. Very comforting!"

"And I'm here because I figured you'd be so shocked you wouldn't try to run away. And it's worked, right?"

Jemma sighs, as if in resignation, and slides down the door to the floor, her arms round her knees, not quite looking up.

(It's slightly adorable)

"Come on, then. What's so important that you had to break in-"

"I already told you - the door was open!"

"That you had to break in to my room to tell me?"

"Coulson's pissed we're not talking."

Her head snaps up.

"What?!" the panic in Jemma's voice is tangible. "He's... angry? He wasn't angry this morning. I mean, he didn't _seem_ angry, but I suppose it's hard to tell. Are you sure he's angry? What did he say exactly?"

"You want to know exactly he said?"

"Yes!"

She seems absolutely terrified.

"Look, it's okay. I didn't tell him anything about what.. you've said. I mean, I almost did - only because I thought he knew, I wasn't going to go mouthing off about it, honest. All he said was that us not speaking 'isn't good for the math' and that we need to 'kiss and make up'."

"You are kidding, right? That last part was a joke? I can't tell if you're joking or not but you're not smiling. Oh god he's angry at us and it's my fault."

"The last part _wasn't_ a joke, he did actually say that, but geez, Jemma, you have to calm down."

Jemma isn't listening.

"Oh god what if he demotes me? What if he demotes _you_? That would be so unfair I mean I dragged you into this. I should really tell him, do you think he'd understand?  Maybe not. Maybe we can think something up. It can't be that hard to lie to him, right. Maybe not-"

Skye throws a book at her.

"Jemma, shut up. It's _really_ not that bad. You're panicking about nothing. Do you honestly think Coulson's going to demote a third of his force? We just need to stop... not talking. Think you can manage that?"

Jemma is concentrating very hard on checking that the book she just got hit with isn't damaged.

"Jemma?"

"I," she pauses."I guess I..." she trails off as a phone starts to ring.

Skye watches as Jemma pulls it out of her pocket.

"Who has your number? I thought we went completely off the grid" 

Jemma reads the number, then blanches and leaps up.

"We need to go, now."

"What?"

"That's not a who. It's a what. I set up a program on the computer monitoring Fitz that would call me if any of his vitals changed."

* * *

 

She hadn't let herself believe that that call would come through. That anything would change. Pretending this was permanent was the easiest way to cope.

Skye lets herself into the room behind her, then looks at Fitz.

"I mean, he doesn't seem any different."

"He's not, not at the moment. But his heart sped up and his brain activity increased," she points to a number of electrodes on his scalp. Her voice goes quiet "And I just hoped that when I got that call it would be good news."

Someone brought in another chair at some point, and they sit down, side by side, waiting.

Jemma almost feels like laughing. It feels exactly like that day three weeks ago, except this time, there's someone waiting with her.

They sit there for what seems like hours, but can only be twenty minutes, and then she looks up and his eyelids are flickering.

She's kneeling by his side in an instant.

"Fitz?" she's whispering it and she's almost crying. "Fitz?"

His eyes almost close, but then he sees her and he seems to almost smile.

"Hey, Jem," he opens his eyes more, and then looks at her properly and his almost-not-really smile falters. "You're looking kinda... old, Jem."

Her heart skips a beat, but she laughs it off.

"I've been kind of stressed these past couple of weeks."

For more than one reason.

"You gave us quite a scare. No one knew if you'd wake up."

And then Skye moves into his line of sight, obviously having hung back.

"Heey Fitz. How you feeling? Jemma's been dead sick with worry," she's smiling, but Jemma's not.

Her heart feels like it's stopped, because the way Fitz is looking at Skye is terrifying her.

Skye can see it too. One look at her and Jemma knows. Skye's eyes are wide and she's moving away and cursing under her breath.

Jemma turns back to Fitz, her heart beat rising, the blood rushing in her ears, deafening her.

"Jem. Who's that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any medical inaccuracies of which I'm sure there are many. I'm far too lazy to do proper research.


	5. Strike Team Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long for this since the first four were posted so quickly. I needed to finish my exams and then I've just been a bit... stuck. On the upside, this is the longest one yet. If you want to listen to the mixes that got me through my block then check out girl meets girl and GIRLS 101 on 8tracks.

"Jemma? Jemma are you still asleep?" Skye is hammering on her door.

Jemma sighs. She wishes she was. Sleep was so much nicer. No-one had to have amnesia when you were asleep. Also, maybe this headache would go away. She rolls over, pulling the covers back over her head, safe behind her locked door.

Except, she isn't, because the next minute her door is beeping and Skye is in her room, flooding light in.

"I did say I knew your code."

Skye looks annoyingly awake through Jemma's half asleep eyes, and when something crunches under her feet, Jemma remembers where the headache came from, and that makes it all the easier to close her eyes and let it pull her back down.

"Seriously?" Her voice is loud in her ear, and Jemma reluctantly cracks an eye open to see a face that is both worried and disbelieving. "I really had not pegged you as one to resort to drowning their sorrows. I would have guessed... large amounts of tea."

Jemma is unresponsive. Skye crosses her arms and frowns.

"You know, I've heard drinking your problems works almost as well as running away from them. But then, I guess you did both."

Jemma is still silent.

"You know, you have to get up at some point. We figured you'd - eventually - want to tell him, so he's currently in the dark about the whole situation. Which is frankly mean and if you don't get yourself out of this bed, I will personally drag you out. Fitz at least deserves to be told by the only only person he currently recognises."

At the mention of his name, Jemma groans, because she knows that she needs to get up but everything hurts, and yes, it tastes like something has died in her mouth.

"God, how much did you have last night?" Skye opens the blind. "You look terrible."

"Thanks. I also happen to feel terrible so that's an interesting coincidence, isn't it!"

"And she speaks! Not going to lie, for a minute there I was worried that you'd forgotten how to."

If she hadn't felt so terrible, maybe Jemma would've acknowledged this appalling attempt at humour, but as it is, a raised eyebrow would have to do. Pushing herself up by her elbows, she lifts the covers away and stands up.

"Did you sleep in the clothes you were wearing yesterday?" Skye sounds more concerned than judgemental, but it still sets her on edge.

"No. Yes! Does it matter?"

Skye backs away, hands raised, to lean on the door frame.

"No, it doesn't. But what does matter is that you're being more irritable than I've ever seen because instead of talking to someone, you ran away and drank what looks like an entire bottle of vodka. And I hate that," Skye sighs. "Get changed and meet me in a few, ok? You'll look ridiculous if you leave this room wearing that and looking crumpled when no-one's ever even seen a crease on your clothing before."

She slides the door open, and looks back over her shoulder. "If you're not out soon, I'm coming back."

Jemma has sat back down on the edge of her bed. She nods.

"Okay."

* * *

She's floating. Watching as someone else changes, watching as she aimlessly picks a new blouse and skirt. Watching as someone else leaves the room and goes to eat breakfast. As everyone looks up when this person tries to get something to eat, no idea what to say. As Skye places a mug of tea in her hands, and tries to make normal conversation like she knows that's exactly what Jemma needs.

(This scares her.)

She has to be floating. This can't be her. It can't be her, walking out of the bus and across the empty expanse of floor to his room.

It's impossible.

She can't be the one sitting by his bed and holding his hand and trying to say the right words.

It must be a dream.

How do you tell your best friend this?

This time there's no easy way out.

So when she opens her mouth, and says "Fitz. You were in an accident. You have retrograde amnesia. We haven't worked out exactly how far back you've lost it, yet, but we know it can't be more than ten years, because, because you still recognise me," she almost doesn't believe what she's saying.

In any other situation, Fitz's face would be funny. In this situation, she wants to cry.

"So we're not... this isn't some weird test before they let us graduate Sci-Tech?" He laughs nervously. "I just thought they'd done this to freak me out when I woke up and couldn't remember how I got here, but when I didn't recognise her," he gesture towards Skye, "and you got so worried, I... wasn't so sure."

Everyone is quiet for a second, and then he speaks again.

"How much have I lost? Please say it hasn't been that long."

Jemma takes a deep breath, doing the maths in her head.

"If the last thing you remember is getting ready to graduate, then that's about... three years."

He closes his eyes and leans back, and when he speaks, his voice is full of resignation.

"So, what, we're in 2014? Three years, just gone like that?"

"Three years. It's May 6th. You've been unconscious for just under a month."

Fitz has nothing more to say, and at this point, neither does Jemma.

* * *

 No one really knows what to do with Fitz, and so he stays, and Jemma can't decide whether she detests this or utterly needs it.

So when Coulson dumps a large ring-binder in front of her, and she looks inside and suddenly understands why he got her to read all those books about prison security, it's completely what she needs.

"I'm gonna brief everyone tomorrow afternoon. Just... skim through it, will you?"

So, obviously, Jemma spends the next 24 hours reading the entire file twice and then researching everything she possibly can in relation to its contents. Because she can't deal with the alternative.

* * *

Skye has never heard of Taylor McKinnon before. It appears she's the only one though, by the faces of the others when Coulson announces that they're breaking her out of prison. Unsurprising, really. Jemma, standing next to her, a large wad of paper in her arms, seems to notice her confusion, and wordlessly fishes a single piece of paper out of the masses and hands it to her, but before she can read any of it, Coulson starts talking again.

"Those who have been with us long enough will have undoubtedly heard of Ms. McKinnon, but probably never exactly what she did, as it's been kept securely under wraps. For those that are unfamiliar with her-"

"I.e. me," Skye mutters under her breath.

"Now is the time to catch up, " Coulson continues. "She was a member of S.H.I.E.L.D until from 1985 to 2009. During the last few months of her time employed by us, she became disillusioned with our values, and then broke away and formed, what is to this day, the most successful independent rival operation to S.H.I.E.L.D. She had built up incredible contacts during her time with us, and when free, she built her organisation from scratch, with little to no money or resources to her name. Unsurprisingly, the powers that be did not like this, viewing it as a threat to the work of S.H.I.E.L.D., and though the secrecy of her workings meant it was almost impossible to pin anything related directly to the organisation on her, she was eventually caught using credit card fraud to fund the group. Usually an offence that merits a minimum-security incarceration, strings were pulled, and she is currently serving a ten-year sentence in a prison not far from here. Without their leader, and with a few other major players taken down, the group crumbled. But what happened there is now irrelevant, because now we need her expertise. Six months ago, we want someone out of prison, we snap our fingers and they're at the Hub. Unfortunately, if we were still able to do that, we wouldn't need her. The US government currently has no trust for S.H.I.E.L.D, understandably, since officially we no longer exist and when we did we were taken down from the inside, and so is unlikely to just give us a prisoner with half their time yet. So. We're breaking her out. Any questions?"

Coulson seems pretty pleased to have got that all out, and everyone seems to be too wrapped up in processing the mound of information they've just had dumped on them.

"Um, yes, sir, I have a question."

Seems. Triplett obviously isn't.

"Shoot."

"There's five of us. How are we going to break into a prison?"

"That's where Simmons comes in."

"Simmons is going to break into the prison?" he sounds incredulous.

"Yes. Well, no, but Simmons has been researching the security used in this particular prison quite extensively, and with this research and the combined expertise we have, I'm certain that we'll have a water-tight plan in no time!"

Coulson sounds ridiculously optimistic, and Jemma is smiling so intently she looks like she'll never be able to move her face again and Skye has a bad feeling about this.

* * *

It seems almost laughable that they're going to break into a prison with the amount of equipment they can hold in one van. A small, hot van. They're parked about 500m from the gates of the prison, around a corner, and Coulson is going through the plan for what seems to Jemma to be the 300th time.

"... remember, May and I are entering through gate C. Triplett is taking the back entrance near Gate F. Skye and Simmons and staying here, monitoring the camera feed and controlling things remotely."

Everyone nods; if they didn't know which gate was which two weeks ago, they certainly do now. May and Triplett start moving away, and Coulson turns back to look at the van.

"You're going to be on your own out here until we get back, okay? Keep your vests on. Protect each other."

For a second he looks almost as vulnerable as Jemma has ever seen him.

"Just do whatever you can to keep each other safe."

(If only you knew.)

And then everyone is gone and Jemma is glad that there are so many things she needs to do and that she has to concentrate to perform each thing perfectly, because if she lets herself think then she'll think about everything, and everything is too much when Skye is at her elbow and they are the most alone they've been in forever, and there's an ache in her stomach that just won't go away, and sometimes she just can't bear it.

She's glad for the work, because everything is slowly eating away at her, threatening to break her apart and maybe she wants to just let go, let herself crumble into the wind because surely that would hurt less than this does.

But if she doesn't think about the ache, maybe it numbs slightly.

(It doesn't.)

She needs to stop thinking completely.

She's on autopilot for the next fifteen minutes, her hands realising that they know what they need to know and her mouth telling Skye what Skye needs to know and she's still like this when there's a burst of noise in her ear and the arm squished next to her stiffens.

The voice is fading in and out but it's very clearly May and she's very clearly not okay.

"... compromised... moving back... target... careful"

"You heard that too, right?" Skye's eyes are wide and full of fear and they both know that all they can do is wait. Wait it out and keep doing what they're meant to be doing.

The seconds stretch out. The seconds merge into minutes. Minutes pass, and then.

Sound.

Outside the van.

Getting closer.

Loud noise. Harsh and fast and exactly the sort of sound guns make.

And then Jemma is standing up and she doesn't know where the bravery is coming from but she knows that if anything happens to the person she's sitting next to she won't be able to live with herself.

She goes to the door but it's been flung open and the sound of bullets ricocheting is louder and someone is bundling in and then there's a gasp behind her and she turns and Skye is covered in blood and she needs to do something but she can't because she's being shoved to the floor of the van and it's playing over and over in her head Skye and blood and blood and bullets and just before she hits the floor all she's thinking is:

Not again.

Darkness falls.

* * *

_"Simmons! Get down here!"_

_She's down there and Skye is bleeding; Skye is dying, dying on the cold hard floor in that cold, cold room, and Jemma is panicking she's not qualified to deal with gunshot wounds she has PhDs in everything other than medicine, it seems, and she's only just realising how she feels._

_When she tells them what to do and they ask if she knows what the chamber is she says yes and hopes they don't know that she doesn't know, she's just hoping, just hoping that it will work._

_And it does._

_Or it doesn't._

_Because she has to inject some drug she doesn't know anything about into her, and pray that she's okay, that it doesn't make her work_

_And she is._

_And it seems like too many miracles and Jemma wants to only have to rely on herself from now on, no trusting anyone else._

_To protect her._

_And she didn't._

* * *

 "I really didn't shove her that hard, I promise," Skye checks Jemma's pulse again, and winces. Shit, she really needs to stop getting shot. Her side is going to hurt like a bitch for forever.

"Evidently it was hard enough to knock her out." May doesn't seem particularly bothered by this, but then again Skye doesn't really trust her judgement of May's emotions.

"She was trying to be all heroic! She was going to get herself killed did you _see_ the amount of bullets that were flying around out there?"

"Yes. Since I was, in fact, out there."

"Right. Yep."

Skye looks down, then tries to twist to reach her phone. Fuck that hurts.

"Who was trying to be heroic?" the voice is coming from the corner of the van, and Skye is relieved to see Jemma opening her eyes.

"You! You were trying to be heroic!"

"You were shot! There was blood! I saw it!"

"Yeah. A bullet skimmed my side and you were about to jump out in front of about 20 of them. What was I supposed to do? Let you?"

"Yes. No. No. I'm sorry."

Jemma pulls her knees up, like she's gathering everything she has left and Skye turns away and when the tiniest sob escapes her, May doesn't ask why she's the one crying when it's Skye who got shot.

* * *

She can't do this. She can't do this any more. She can't be this close to her. To him. She can't be in this space, the smallest space in the world and it's making her feel claustrophobic and she's never had that before.

She needs distance that the Playground can't give her and it's surprisingly easy to knock on Coulson's door and arrange everything before she's even thought about what she's doing. Everyone has seen that she hasn't been the same lately and Coulson isn't an exception.

She tells Fitz first and he seems to understand and she wonders if maybe he didn't feel like that three years ago.

And then all she has to do is knock on her door and when the door is open all she has to do is open her mouth and speak and it's the easiest thing but surely the hardest thing she'll ever do.

"Skye, I'm leaving."


	6. Countdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i'm sorry it's taken so long i really am i hope this was worth the wait only one more chapter to go. Girl meets Girl again. if this is bad i'm really sorry i'm so bad at this why has anyone read it.

**27 Days**

Skye stares at Jemma, open-mouthed, for a few seconds, registering what she has just heard.

"What?"

Jemma looks down at her shoes, and repeats.

"I'm leaving."

This time she doesn't sound nearly as self-assured, and Skye wonders for a moment how long it took for her to psych herself up, when it finally clicks, breaking through the sleep stupor (it's ridiculously early in the morning) and the barrier of denial that she threw up remarkably quickly.

"What?!"

"Are you going to make me say it a third time?" she bites her lip, anxiously. "Because I didn't prepare for that, and I really need to stick to what I've-"

"No. Sorry," Skye crosses her arms, leaning in the doorway. "Why?"

"Why did I prepare? Because I've found that-"

"It's too early for word games, Jem."

She shuffles her feet, and Skye can feel the worry rising, building up in her stomach, and chilling her.

"I'm leaving because Coulson re-assigned me."

She's still not looking at her.

"That's bullshit."

Jemma seems quite surprised by the curse, her head snapping up.

(Good.)

"It is _not,"_ she sounds incredibly indignant. "He re-assigned me, and I'm just doing what I was ordered."

"Coulson isn't re-assigning anyone. He needs everyone. If you're leaving it's because you want to and I want to know why."

"I resent that."

"Only because it's true, and you know it. Where are you going?"

"That's classified. You don't have the security clearance."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me. None of us have any security clearance anymore! S.H.I.E.L.D. hardly even exists, for God's sakes."

"That says maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that that's all you're going to know."

She turns away, hair swinging over her shoulder like she honestly thinks that's the end of that, and now Skye's annoyed.

* * *

 

Vaguely happy at how that went, Jemma starts to walk away, but before she can get anywhere, there are hands on her shoulders steering her back in entirely the wrong direction, and sitting her down on Skye's bed.

"You're not getting out of here until you tell me something."

Skye is very pointedly blocking the door.

"And I could totally take you so don't even try getting out."

"I already said, it's classified!"

"Yeah," Skye sighs exasperatedly. " 'Classified'. You already said. You can keep feeding me that as long as you want, but you're my best friend here and I kinda want to know something about why you've decided to leave me here, all alone."

(So this is what it's like from the other side.)

"Are you really not budging?"

"Nope."

Maybe this was her fault for expecting Skye to just... take it.

"I'm leaving to do recruitment. After our failed prison break, we need someone working on bringing people in. I'm going to travel around the US, and possibly other countries, visiting universities and seeing if I can find people to join the new S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson _had_ been thinking of assigning someone to this job, but you were right. He didn't assign me, I asked," she pauses for breath. Skye opens her mouth to say something, but Jemma cuts her off. "And if you really need to ask why I wanted to leave, then you're obviously not as clever as I gave you credit for."

She doesn't look up as she exits the room.

* * *

 

**23 Days**

"When do you go?"

"June 20th."

"How far away is that?"

"23 days."

"So it's not like you're counting down, or anything."

* * *

 

**18 Days**

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"Yes."

"What if you couldn't go?"

"Why would I not be able to go?"

"Your suitcase might disappear."

"I'd take yours."

* * *

 

**17 Days**

"Skye, did you really take every single suitcase on the bus and hide it."

"No. Maybe."

"Wait, you actually _did_ take _every_ suitcase? Even May's?"

"May have done."

"Put them back, Skye."

* * *

 

**10 Days**

"Jem?"

"Yes, Skye?"

"I'm really drunk."

"I can tell."

"I'm just really sad."

"I know. Maybe you'll be less sad if you go back to sleep."

"Don't think so."

"Okay. But it doesn't look very comfortable on the floor there."

"Isn't."

"And I really need to file this report."

"Right."

"You can stay in here, it's okay."

* * *

 

**8 Days**

"I'm gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Fitz."

"Are you sure you want to go? You're sure you wouldn't be happier here?"

"I'm sure."

"Like, absolutely?"

"I tried being happy. I tried... ignoring everything and I tried just forgetting it and I tried everything else, and it didn't work. All I've got left to try is distance."

"Distance from me, as well, eh?"

"You'll be fine, I promise. Everyone is great."

"I know."

* * *

 

**5 Days**

"Where are you going first?"

"M.I.T."

"Cool. I guess everyone is like, super clever there, right."

"Not really. They're just like you and me."

"You're a genius."

"So are you."

* * *

 

**3 Days**

"I got you a going-away present. Well, I didn't actually get you it. I haven't been many places lately that sell stuff. It's your suitcase. I thought maybe you needed it now."

"I was actually starting to worry you weren't going to give it back, so thanks."

"I considered keeping it, but it was getting kinda cramped under my bed."

"I did notice that, the third time I checked it was still under there."

"So you knew where it was."

"Obviously."

* * *

 

**2 Days**

"When are you gonna start packing?"

"Today. Tomorrow. Probably tomorrow. It's not like I have that much stuff, anyway."

"You're kinda putting this off, Jem."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you."

"Why?"

"I hate packing."

"Sure. If you say so."

* * *

 

**1 day**

"Don't go."

Jemma looks up from the mess of clothes on her floor to where Skye is hovering in her doorway.

"What?"

"Please."

"You're asking me _now_ ?" Her voice is incredulous. "You realise this is the first time you've expressed this? In almost a month?"

Skye's heart is pounding.

"First time I've said it. I'd think I'd kinda made it obvious."

"And? What am I supposed to do? Drop everything I've been planning the last few weeks? Stay here, where I'm absolutely miserable, in case you hadn't noticed? Stay here where my best friend doesn't remember a large chunk of the time we've spent together, and where... This job, this is me getting out and I need it. Can't you see that?"

Skye can see. Jemma's speech was getting increasingly faster and higher pitched, something that she'd begun to recognise as a definite warning sign.

"Just... calm down, okay?"

"I am, most definitely calm. Definitely."

She stands up, scanning the room as though surveying a bombsite.

"I just, I've been on this plane for almost a year, and once upon a time it was home, and now, what's left for me here? Everything has just... fallen apart."

"I'm here."

"Precisely."

"No. I'm here."

"And your point is?"

"My point is that you're a walking cliché,"

"What? Why?"

"You're a genius, with two PhDs, and you can't see what's been right in front of you all the time."

(This is a lie. Until this moment, with her standing in the middle of that stupid pile of clothes, Skye hadn't seen it, either.)

"I," Jemma pauses for a second, and then seems to regain some composure. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Skye takes a deep breath, and then the space between them decreases because she's properly stepped into her room, and it gets smaller when she gets a hold of the lapels of the stupidly adorable blazer that Jemma is currently wearing, like you need to look cute to pack, and then there's no space at all.

And everything's okay. Everything Skye's been worrying about for the past month seems to disappear, because right now, it's all perfect.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Please don't go."

Then Jemma's holding her hands and her face is incredibly close.

"Okay."

And then Jemma kisses her again.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one. I hope you guys enjoy it.

She's still kissing you, and it feels awfully nice, and for a second you wonder if perhaps the kiss had gone to your head and made you make a rash decision. And then her hand is curling round the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you decide you don't care, either way.

You figure you deserve a bit of happiness, and you're not sure if you've felt as happy in the past few years as you do right now, with her smiling against your lips.

And that's when there's a knock at the door, which you hadn't even noticed was closed.

"Skye, are you in there? I need to see you about something, and May said she thought she saw you over here."

"Yep, sure, coming!" she kisses you again, quickly, then to you, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't, like, panic or anything, while I'm gone?"

You nod, and then she's gone, like a hurricane coming in and changing everything in a heartbeat, and then leaving just as quickly.

You sit on the edge of the bed, numb, not entirely sure if that even just happened, and survey the mess. Everything here is things you were going to take, and now you're not going, right?

(Right? Right.)

But, really, you're the worst at thinking about things without automatically coming up with a hundred different conclusions for every scenario you've come across, and so, an hour later, when there's another knock at your door, you're still sitting on your bed, running through every single possibility.

You look up, expectantly, but it's not Skye yet, it's Coulson.

(Of course Skye wouldn't knock.)

He takes in the piles of clothes on the floor, and the empty suitcase, and comes to sit down next to you.

"So you're not going."

"Um," you glance sideways, but he doesn't seem particularly angry. "No, I don't think so, sir."

"I thought as much. Skye seemed quite happy earlier, and I was wondering when she was going to stop messing around with our suitcases and actually get you to change your mind."

"So you... didn't want me to leave?"

"Simmons, do you really think I wanted one of the half a dozen people I know I can trust to leave?"

"But you let me."

You're incredibly confused.

"Of course I let you, it was obvious that you were miserable here. If I had told you no, would you have stayed?"

"Yes!" you say, and maybe a little too indignantly. "Okay, maybe not."

"Precisely. So I said yes, and then hoped Skye would figure herself out and give you a reason to stay."

"Wait, what?"

"She cut it a bit close," he carries on, as if you hadn't just interrupted. "But that doesn't matter. I'm glad you're staying; I really didn't want to lose you, Simmons."

You stand up when he does.

"Sir, how much do you know?"

"Don't let it interfere with your work, Simmons."

* * *

"Jemma," Skye looks worried, her nose crinkling, "have you moved at all since I left, like, 2 hours ago?"

"I got up at one point."

"Right."

"Coulson knows about us."

"I figured. Do you mind?"

"Not really."

"Why do you still look so conflicted, then?"

"Can you sit down? You're making me feel short."

"You are short."

She still sits down.

"I'm not even 2 inches shorter than you. If I'm short then so are you."

"Sure, if you say so. Now why don't you tell me why you're worried?"

"I was on my own in here for quite a while, and when I'm alone I tend to be good at thinking about lots and lots of things and I need to know if this is just a rebound thing or an experiment or only to stop me leaving."

She seems genuinely confused, which is a good sign, you suppose.

"I'm going to address those in the order you said them, and not in order of stupidity, because that would be very hard because they're all stupid. Number one - 'rebound thing'? From _Ward_? I kissed the man about 4 times almost two months ago, and then he turned out to be not a very nice dude. Not exactly mourning the loss of that guy. Number two - 'experiment'? First off, if I wanted to experiment, I think I'd do it with someone I don't spend 80% of my life in a confined space with, and secondly, I think experiments only work if it's the first time," she pauses. "You got that?"

You nod.

"Good."

"What about the last one?"

"Maybe I was a bit hasty a second ago. I did kiss you to stop you leaving, but not _only_. I just had a few things to figure things out, and you about to leave figured them out for me. Understand?"

That's good enough for you, and when you lean over again, and her hands tangle in your hair, it's almost as good as the first time.

* * *

At first, you thought you couldn't be any happier, but the world seems eager to disprove this.

You're inordinately happy when Skye stumbles into your bunk at two in the morning, because she inexplicably managed to tie her hair in a multitude of knots, the knots managing to incorporate a comb and two hair ties, and you have to spend 20 minutes untangling it all.

When you get a note under you door with the words 'I'm glad we ruined our friendship', you smile for half an hour, not least because you have proof she listens to the same music as you, and when she turns up 20 minutes later to share a poem she liked but couldn't fit on the card, you spend the next hour thinking of Skye telling you that

"It is the way you lean to me

and the way I lean to you, as if

we are each other's prevailing."

When she squeezes your hand under the table at dinner, and then doesn't let go for the entirety of the scary movie they watch together, no matter how many times you tell her how illogical it is for anything like this to ever happen in real life.

When you've been away for a weekend's recon mission, and kisses you right there, in front of everyone, and you couldn't care less.

When she's there, every time you have a nightmare, every time you wake up screaming because Fitz was pushing the button and you were dragging him up to the surface or she was being shot, _both_ times, which is ridiculous, she's there. She's there even if it's the middle of the night, and it makes you feel safer than you think you've ever felt.

And the first time she tells you she loves you, while you're patching up yet another wound, you smile for the rest of the day before realising you didn't say it back, and end up rushing into her bunk at one in the morning.

* * *

So now, sitting in your bunk, leaning up against her, you're content.

"If you'd left, were you just gonna... try forget about everything?"

The question startles you from your book. You know this is ridiculous, and you'd think she would.

"I couldn't forget you," you entwine your fingers with hers, and you can tell she's smiling, because you knew what she meant. "Even if I tried."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Skye references in her note is called Jenny and the poem excerpt is from Orkney / This Life by Andrew Greig, and along with the characters from AoS, I don't own any of that, obviously.  
> The lovely drawing is by ironbunneh on tumblr, who was very kind to draw it for me.  
> I couldn't have done this without my friend Tanzila, who read and commented on every chapter and kept me excited for it, and was as close to being a beta for it as you can be without actually being a beta.  
> So yeah. I did it. Wow. I finished a fic and it went over 10k which was my aim. Now it's gonna get forgotten about but c'est la vie. I greatly enjoyed it while it lasted.  
> Comments are always appreciated, more than anything.


	8. In Another World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: This is an alternate ending which I am only writing because what happened in the premiere was scarily close to what almost happened with this fic, and I figured that I could easily write a version that's canon-compliant. I repeat, this is an alternate ending, not a new one. Also won't be as fluffy as the last one for obvious reasons. No, really. Legit making myself sad writing this.

"Don't go."

Jemma looks up from the mess of clothes on her floor to where Skye is hovering in her doorway.

"What?"

"Please."

"You're asking me _now_ ?" Her voice is incredulous. "You realise this is the first time you've expressed this? In almost a month?"

"First time I've said it. I'd think I'd kinda made it obvious."

"And? What am I supposed to do? Drop everything I've been planning the last few weeks? Stay here, where I'm absolutely miserable, in case you hadn't noticed? Stay here where my best friend doesn't remember a large chunk of the time we've spent together? They think he might be getting his memories back, but that's not all that's wrong with him. He's confused. So confused all the time, not just because he can't remember experiences, but because he can't remember words. It's driving him around the bend and I can't bear watching it."

Jemma's speech is getting increasingly faster and higher pitched.

"Just... calm down, okay?"

"I am, most definitely calm. Definitely."

She stands up, scanning the room as though surveying a bombsite.

"I just, I've been on this plane for almost a year, and once upon a time it was home, and now, what's left for me here? Everything has just... fallen apart. Fitz has fallen apart. I don't know if any of you have noticed, but he talks to me all the time. Even when I'm not there. He has this Simmons in his head and he talks to her constantly. I've watched him talk to her for minutes before he notices me, and he gets so confused because there's two of us. But she's not me. She's what he wants me to be, and I can't be that. You know that all too well. So this job, this is me getting out and I need it. Can't you see that?"

"I can." Skye sighs, before finally entering the room and picking her way through the clothes to balance on the edge of the bed. "I wish I didn't have to, though."

Jemma sits down next to her.

"I wish I didn't have to, as well, but I've thought about this for a very long time, and I think it's the only way. He can't heal properly with me here. I have to go."

"If I kissed you right now would that make you stay?"

Jemma's heart speeds up to what is almost definitely a dangerous level.

"Probably. Almost certainly. So please don't." She looks down, up, anywhere but at the person on her left, because her nose is hurting, and she knows what comes next. "I can't let myself do that. Fitz gave up his life for me and it's the least I can do to let him recover in peace."

"Right."

"I need to, um, finish packing." She still isn't meeting her eyes.

"Right," she walks, then pauses in the door. "I-"

"Please don't."

The door slides shut behind her and Jemma Simmons breaks down in tears.

* * *

 

The next morning, Jemma is gone before breakfast, and the team learn that Ward is being transferred into their custody.

Skye is not sure that it's a fair trade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short but not sweet. I'm sorry.


End file.
